Amongst Mountains

We spent the first half of Wednesday working on our projects. We did not originally have a group trip planned, but my classmates and I asked if we could travel to the Troodos Mountains for a hike that afternoon.

The Troodos mountain range is the largest in Cyprus and is located towards the western side of the island. Troodos National Park is sprawled around Mount Olympus (also known as Chionistra), which is the highest point in Cyprus (6,404 feet high).

As we approached the mountains, the climate and landscape visibly transformed. The area looked less like a desert and more like a wooded area you might find on the east coast of the United States. The temperature dropped drastically, and towards the end of our hike it was actually chilly. The hike was short, but we walked slowly, slowly (siga, siga) to soak in our surroundings. If you randomly dropped me on the trail and asked me where I was, I would have never guessed I was in Cyprus. The area reminded me more of Shenandoah National Park in Virginia than anywhere else. At the end of our hike, we reached a waterfall and rested there for thirty minutes or so. I thought of the day Natalie and I hiked White Oak Canyon in Shenandoah with Eric and another one of my MBA classmates. We were supposed to hike 8 miles, but ended up walking 13 after we took a wrong turn. We saw over thirty waterfalls that day, and spent ten hours together laughing and learning.

After the hike, we stopped at a restaurant in the national park for a cup of Cyprus coffee and some traditional snacks: pitas and tzatziki, olives, hummus, halloumi, and sausage. It was so chilly I actually shivered. Compared to the 105-degree weather in Nicosia, it was a much-appreciated change in environment.

After eating, we boarded the bus and drove to the top of Mount Olympus where we enjoyed a stunning view of all of Cyprus. We watched the seemingly larger-than-normal sun as it set behind the mountains.

On the ride home, we learned that our bus driver is part of the Bicommunal Choir for Peace in Cyprus. We asked him if he would please sing for us. He took the bus’s microphone into his hands and started singing a beautiful song to us in Greek. We all listened in silence as we gazed out the window at the mountains passing us by. At this point in the day, the collection of green treetops that blanketed the mountains were partially covered in shadows and partially bathed in the light of the golden sunset. Our driver finished his song, and we asked him for the meaning of the words. The song is about Cyprus’s division.

“They say I should love my country. My father tells me I should love my country. But my country is split in two. Which piece should I love?”